


Two Hearts in One Home

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Coming Out, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Future Fic, Marriage Proposal, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Kira, Other, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: In which Kira bakes 11 pies.





	Two Hearts in One Home

**Author's Note:**

> Still in this 1D obsessed phase in case you haven't noticed. Go listen to Harry's new album and [the song this title came from](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uD6s-X3590). Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/160643913030/pairing-kiramalia-rating-e-wc-1800-tags).

When Kira gets nervous, they bake. It’s a known fact. Like how people know about gravity, or about Scott and Stiles being best friends, or about chocolate killing dogs. 

Well, the latter was a well known fact to everyone except Malia, who almost cried when confessing to Kira that she accidentally dropped a chocolate chip on the ground and Teddy ate it. After an impromptu emergency room visit and approximately a thousand “I’m sorry”s and “I’m a horrible girlfriend”s from Malia, Kira had reassured her that everyone made mistakes. 

“Remember that one time I tried getting a perm?” joked Kira, trying to coax a smile from Malia’s tear-stained face. 

Malia sniffed, wiping her red nose. “I shouldn’t have let you do it. That was a really terrible idea.” 

“It was,” agreed Kira with a giggle, “and Teddy’s healthy as ever, so don’t beat yourself up over it, okay?” 

But the point is that Kira made 3 cakes right before they came out to Malia as nonbinary. Halfway through the second one, Malia knew something was up. By the third one, she gently pried Kira away from the oven. They both plopped on the couch, and Malia grasped Kira’s hands in her own. 

“Uh,” Malia chewed her lip, “everything alright there, babe?” 

Kira’s fingers twitched against Malia’s palm like they were still thinking about beating eggs and whipping frosting. Kira’s eyes darted everywhere but Malia’s face. They chuckled awkwardly. “W-what? Yeah, of course. Just dandy, peachy keen.” 

Malia would never consider herself the most socially adept person in the world, but even she wasn’t fooled. “Kira,” she frowned. She smoothed relaxing circles into Kira’s palm with a fingertip. 

“I just…” Kira took a deep breath, eyes finally meeting Malia’s for the first time. “I think I might not be a girl.” 

The words were whispered so quietly that Malia almost didn’t catch them. Malia blinked, processing for a moment, then nodded easily. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Kira echoed faintly, visibly sagging.

“Okay,” Malia repeated firmly. “What are you?” 

“I’m not—I don’t—” Kira hesitated. “I’m still figuring it out.” 

Malia smiled softly. “Well, when you decide, let me know about new pronouns, new names, anything.” 

Kira dazedly asked, “You’re not mad? Or, like, weirded out?” 

“As long as I can still kiss you and hold your hand and fuck you so hard you forget your name,” Malia shrugged, “I’m good.” 

Kira’s heart stumbled, so full of love and relief and gratitude. Kira lurched forward, enveloping Malia in a bone-crushing hug. Malia squeezed Kira back just as tightly. 

But the point is that there are currently _11 pies_ sitting on Malia’s dining room table. Teddy is perched at the head of the table, ears perked, tongue lolling, and tail wagging hopefully. 

“Kira?” Malia calls in alarm, slowly inching towards Teddy to make sure he doesn’t get any funny ideas in that corgi brain of his. “Kira, did a magic pie fairy make an unexpected stop at our house?” 

Kira pops into the doorway and winces at the damage laid out on the wood in the form of graham cracker crust and pie tins. “Um…” They run a sheepish hand through their lavender locks. “I may have, uh, had a situation this afternoon.” 

“No kidding,” Malia whistles, setting down her bag by the front door and stripping off her work shirt—a stupid black tee with _The Daily Grind_ printed underneath a cartoon cup of coffee. Derek thought he was so clever when he came up with the coffee shop name, but Malia rolls her eyes every time she has to put on the shirt. But, then again, she’s the one in between jobs at the moment, so maybe Derek has something to be smug about after all. “Wanna tell me about it?” 

Kira shakes their head vigorously. 

Malia shrugs good-naturedly. “Okay, but we have to find good, loving homes for these pies before either Teddy dies of diabetes or we do.” 

“I hear Cora’s favorite is pecan,” Kira offers helpfully. 

* * *

Early morning sun insistently slats through the bedroom blinds, striping the walls and blankets. Malia groans when she realizes the reason she’s conscious at ass o’clock in the morning. 

Next to her, Kira stirs drowsily. Their bright hair looks incandescent atop the comparatively dull grey sheets. Their smooth skin glows brighter than the dust motes lazily floating in the air. Their eyelashes flutter enticingly as Kira straddles the line between awake and asleep. 

Malia’s mouth goes dry when she drags her gaze down Kira’s sharp jaw and smooth collarbone to the curve of their breast, the tightness of their nipples in the cool air. The sheets have been kicked low during the night, barely draped over Kira’s narrow waist, exposing the shallow rise and fall of their soft stomach. 

Suddenly not so tired anymore, Malia shifts closer, rolls onto Kira to slot their legs together, relish the press of chests. Malia peppers idle kisses on Kira’s nose, cheeks, the corners of their mouth. Malia’s hand twists its way into Kira’s hair. 

“Mmm,” Kira smiles, eyes still closed. “Good morning.” They reach up blindly, fingertips groping until they can cup Malia’s cheek. 

“It will be,” smirks Malia, leaning down for a kiss. It begins warm like the sun limning Malia’s spine as she kicks the sheets all the way off. But Kira soon opens their mouth to suck on Malia’s tongue, nip her bottom lip, moan softly. 

Malia shivers at the heavy smacks of lips and ragged breathing. Kira’s nails drag lightly down her ribs, hands gripping Malia’s hips as they shift and send sparks skittering in Malia’s gut. 

“I’m,” pants Kira, pulling back, “really wet.” Their cheeks are flushed. Their mouth is raw and red and swollen. A few stray hairs stick to their slightly damp forehead. “You gonna do something about it?” 

Malia grins. “Only if you beg.”

Kira’s eyes glimmer with mischievousness. They spreads their legs, arch their back, bat their eyes prettily. Their voice goes breathy and low and sultry in a way that has Malia’s pulse tripping over itself. “Please. Fuck. Me.” 

“Your wish,” Malia nibbles cheekily at the tender skin between Kira’s breasts, “is my command.” She slides further down Kira’s body, savoring every muscle responding to her touch like an old friend. The curve of their hips, the gentle ridges of the stretch marks decorating their inner thighs, they all draw Malia’s hands like magnets. 

Kira’s breath hitches when Malia dips her head to kiss their belly button, to nose the crease of their thigh, to bruise the delicate skin of their hip. Their hands lovingly comb through Malia’s messy tangles as she drives Kira wild with little touches that do nothing to ease the increasing ache between their legs. 

“Malia,” Kira whines, “I said to fuck me, not torture me to death.” They squirm, making a face at the unpleasantly damp sheets beneath them. “Maybe I should just—oh!” 

Kira throws back their head as Malia finally sinks a finger in. They both groan in unison. Malia starts pumping immediately, bites her lip at the filthy slick noises it makes. Kira rolls their hips. “ _More_.” 

Malia can’t do anything but oblige, so lost in the feeling of Kira clenching around her hand. She twists her two fingers, flexes her wrist, adds another. Kira is making delicious noises above. Their feet are planted flat on the bed to bend their knees. Malia can see their toes curling, their calf muscles quivering. 

“Malia,” Kira chants into the quiet morning like a heady prayer. “ _Malia_.” 

Malia’s fingers work faster. Her eyes go half-lidded with lust. She knows she hits the jackpot when Kira tenses up and cries out. Everything gets slicker, which Malia didn’t even know was possible. Her whole hand gleams as Kira drips onto her. 

Kira’s stomach tenses. They reach down to gently thumb at their clit. Their other hand strays to a breast, pinching a nipple. Kira’s eyes are squeezed shut. Sweat trickles down their neck. 

A hot flash of desire lights Malia up at the sight. She has to reach down to drag a finger lightly over her own clit, through the slick coating her inner thighs, just to take the edge off, just for a moment. Leaning down, Malia laps at Kira’s fingers. She traces the webbing, the length, until her tongue finds Kira’s clit. 

That’s it. 

Kira takes a sharp, stuttering inhale. Their body bends like a bow and snaps as it all comes crashing to a head. Come coats Malia’s hand, the tip of her chin. Kira’s hands fall away, slack and exhausted. Their chest heaves like they’ve been running a marathon. 

Malia grins, sits up. She works a furious hand over herself, slips a few fingers in. She’s taut with tension from Kira’s orgasm. It won’t take her long to bring herself off. As she feels the edge drawing near, Malia looks up. Her hands stumble with a jolt of excitement when she sees Kira’s sleepy eyes watching her hungrily. 

That’s it. 

Malia comes with a low moan, soaking her own fingers. Thoroughly worn out, Malia collapses besides Kira again. She wipes her hands on the sheets to be cleaned later. Satisfied, she snuggles close and drapes an arm around their waist. 

Kira sighs happily and yawns. “We should set the alarm,” they mumbles halfheartedly. “We need to get up in a couple hours for brunch with Allison and Lydia.” 

“Fuck brunch,” grumbles Malia. “It’s not even a real meal.” 

“We still need to—shit!” In their uncoordinated attempt to hit the alarm clock, Kira accidentally knocks it off the nightstand. It hits the ground, and the frame pops apart with a _snap_. Something black and small falls out. 

It feels like all the air has left the room. 

“Kira,” Malia says in a stunned voice, “is that a…?” 

Kira goes bright pink and all but vaults out of bed to swoop it out. They ludicrously try to hide it behind her back like that will erase Malia’s memory of having seen it. “I, uh, er—” 

“Kira.” Malia sits up, hardly able to register, hardly daring to hope. “Were you going to…?” 

“Not now,” Kira admits, finally loosening their deathly tight grip on the velvet container and bringing it back in front of themself. “I wasn’t planning on being naked to propose. But soon. It was supposed to be special and romantic and…” Kira lowers their eyes. 

Chest so tight it’s hard to breathe, Malia stands to face Kira. She covers Kira’s hands so they’re both holding the box together. “Anything you do is special,” Malia says earnestly. “And I think this is still pretty romantic even though I have come on my hands.” 

Kira giggles helplessly, leaning into Malia’s touch. So maybe the proposal won’t be as much as a surprise as they would’ve liked, but Kira wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world: kissing soft and sweet and sticky in the middle of the bedroom, Teddy scratching impatiently at the door to tell them he wants his breakfast, brushing noses, sharing breaths. 

Yeah, Kira wouldn’t change a thing. 


End file.
